I have been to a Pittsburgh Pirates game every year I have been here. I think they have won one out of those four, maybe two. That’s pretty typical for that team. Once a powerhouse, they haven’t even been to a World Series since I was born. Probably a curse of some sort. Don’t all baseball teams have a curse to blame for continually loosing?
Win or loose, though, taking two kids to a baseball game was an adventure. We certainly didn’t sit down much. And our hopeful search for the Pirates Parrot was in vain. We got to see him but not meet him as he tends to hang around those who can afford brilliant seats – a reality poor Emry doesn’t quite understand yet. Still, she took the disappointment well. After all, cotton candy will cheer just about anyone.
And hotdogs. Because those are essential at a baseball game. The night was clear and pleasant. Ethan was fascinated whenever a long ball was hit. Emry loved the lights of the city. Both got to stay up way beyond their bedtime, crashing almost as soon as they were fastened into their car seats. All in all, a fun and memorable family outing.
Ethan observing the field.
Emry enjoying her hotdog.
All of us at the famous Roberto Clemente statue.
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